Run boy, run

"You think I'm scared?" Frank let out a barking laugh and set both hands on his hips. "I grew up on the freaking reservation. You wouldn't last five minutes on the res, buddy. I ain't afraid of no one no how."

AwwwWWW!  I had the EXACT same idea!

"Oh." He frowned some. He really didn't see why painting nails would be a cause for greif. There were worse things the scout could do. Like dissecting people with pens.

"Oh, not long." When Tie asked him about his nails, the Scout smiled. He didn't want to turn this into a lecture, after all. Glancing down at his nails, he shrugged and carefully touched the tip of his thumbnail with his forefinger.

Son, you need a sensible haircut.

Rather than arguing about him about the whole boss thing, Frank decided to let that slide. The Soldier had backed off about cutting his hair, and that was the most important thing. "Don't worry about me, alright? When I gotta fight, I braid it and stuff it down my shirt. My backpack keeps it from popping out." And if anyone was close enough to grab what little he left out for the sake of being able to turn his head, he was a dead man, anyways.

"Um... it looks like you are painting zhem..." he rubbed at his arm.

"Folks... give me grief sometimes. Had to break a few skulls once or twice... or four times." The Scout shrugged, flashing a quick, if slightly uneasy smile. Turning from the Medic, he jerked his head down the hall and began to lead the way.

Was... was the younger male painting his nails? Tie had never seen a male paint his nails.

"What's it look like?" Well, the Medic wasn't exactly yelling at him over this. That was a good enough start. A lot of people off- and on- the reservations just didn't understand the whole phenomenon, and some could react more aggressively than others.

"You're the chick in charge, right?" The Scout asked, absently pawing at the side of his nose as he approached her. "Can I ask ya something?"

His cheeks puffed out as he took in a deep breath of air. That shit sounded dangerous, but if he backed out now, he’d look like a total wuss infront of his new Captain.

"Yeah, yeah. Best hold onto it, 'cus I ain't gonna need no stinking pine box until I'm at least... thirty or so." Frank wasn't going to kid himself; living to a ripe old age just wasn't his scene. Knowing himself, he was going to burn out earlier than most.

//unfreakingtouchable//

The Scout glanced up from his nails when he heard a stranger talking to him. After finally feeling settled in his base, the young man had decided that it was high time to be true to who he was and had finally taken to painting his nails. Still, he was a bit defensive about a stranger walking up on him. There was simply no telling how some people could react.